Mother Knows Best
by Irvine Cypher
Summary: Derek notices that the pack is uncharacteristically well behaved, and there haven't been any brawls or maiming caused by the usual bickering the past few weeks. He's getting suspicious. / Sterek. PackMom!Stiles. Papa!Derek. Puppy!Isaac.
1. Part 2: Mother Knows Best

**Mother Knows Best**

* * *

Summary: Derek notices that the pack is uncharacteristically well behaved, and there haven't been any brawls or maiming caused by the usual bickering the past few weeks. He's getting suspicious.

* * *

Stiles didn't know _why_ he even bothered putting up with these wolves.

He pushed the cart into the cereals aisle, taking the ones Derek liked, and some he didn't like for the pack. He took some of the normal cornflakes (because Derek's boring and he likes those), then some of the frosted ones, some Cheerios and Froot Loops since Isaac liked that one, and some few (more like a dozen) boxes of pop tarts since every single puppy went Hunger Games for it in the morning.

Jackson tried to take one of those cookie looking cereals and he stopped him from putting it in the car. "Whoa there, puppy, can't let you take that one," he put the box back on the shelf.

"Why not?!" said Jackson, watching Stiles push the cart out of the aisle to get a few gallons of milk from the refrigerators at the end. "You got the Froot Loops for Isaac!"

"And you get the Cheerios and pop tarts like everybody else, and because Isaac is the only good puppy," said Stiles, putting the gallons of milk under the cart. "Derek doesn't like it when you guys crowd the counter with boxes during breakfast-hey, you're the one with superpowers here. Push the cart. It's getting too heavy for me," he left the cart for Jackson to push.

Jackson rolled his eyes, and pushed the cart. He followed Stiles through the supermarket. He couldn't believe he'd been reduced to pushing the cart for someone he used to bully.

"Can we get this?"

Stiles almost dropped the cans of SPAM he was holding when Scott's voice darted through his thinking. "Goddamit, Scott!" said Stiles, putting the cans in the cart. "What the hell?"

"I was just asking if we could get this," Scott held up something Stiles didn't even bother look at.

"No," he said, moving to get some other type of canned goods.

"You didn't even look at it!" said Scott incredulously.

"And you're not the one paying for this!" Stiles turned around to look at him. "May I remind you that every time I go grocery shopping, we use Derek's credit card. So it's my job to get what you guys _need_, and not what you guys _want-_" then he saw what Scott had held up. It was a butterscotch mix. "Oh, no. Absolutely not. Put that back."

"C'mon, Stiles!" Scott whined.

"No. I am so not using any mix to make brownies," No way in hell. His mom taught him better than that. Derek told him better than that (even if Derek couldn't cook, but he cooked like how Derek's mom cooked). "Jackson, you go get another cart, and Scott, you push this one. We're making brownies the old fashioned way when we get home,"

Stiles smiled as he heard a 'Fuck yeah!' from both werewolves while picking other canned goods from the shelf. Baked goodies were his ultimate weapon against werewolf puppies.

* * *

Thank God Derek was rich. He'd given Stiles a credit card to use for everything the pack needed, and everything for the Hale house (like toiletries, Tide and Downy, and similar needs). This wasn't what he had signed up for when he and Scott agreed to join the pack about a year ago, but it was the role he was given: Pack Mom. Sure he had a few panic attacks when Derek told him he'd been one all along, but it was okay. He just didn't know it'd be this troublesome. Fulfilling, but troublesome. At least he's already had a lot of practice when the time came that he'd father his own children.

And he actually enjoyed it since he cooked for his dad, and now he was cooking for a pack of werewolves and their grumpy alpha. The only difference was he cooked about twenty times as many, and it was a huge pain in the ass when he had to clean up after some kind of not-werewolf thingy attacking Beacon Hills. Cleaning up included looking after the (sometimes destroyed) house (which all the puppies would be rebuilding the next day); doing the laundry (dried blood stains were a bitch to take out and he and Derek didn't want the betas' parents asking why there were blood stains on their clothes); telling his dad not to shoot Derek because of the trouble in town, and feeding the said pack, among others.

The jeep pulled up in front of the renovated Hale house, where everybody spent their weekends, and days after school. He and Scott got out of the jeep and started to pull out the groceries. Jackson's Porsche arrived a few moments later, and helped.

Derek stood at the porch, watching them. Jackson never helped with the groceries before, and he noticed that he and Scott weren't in a brawl like they always were. "What's for dinner?" Derek asked as Stiles went up the steps and gave the alpha a kiss on his cheek.

"Your mother's lasagne, and Scott and Jackson, miraculously-thanks, Jackson," he said when Jackson took the bags in his hands to take inside. "As I was saying, Scott and Jackson miraculously agreed on asking for some herbed chicken parmesan and I'm making some Caesar salad for you. And I'll get right to it,"

Derek raised a brow as Stiles followed his betas to the kitchen. Scott and Jackson agreed on the same stuff? And Jackson took the groceries from Stiles' hands? He shook his head. Something was seriously wrong. But he ignored and he, too, followed, and saw Erica and Isaac join in restocking the pantry while Stiles put out the pots and pans he'd be using to make dinner.

"Alright, everybody out of my kitchen!" said Stiles, making shooing gestures with his hands as he gave his jacket to Scott to take to the living room so he could start cooking. He put on a blue frilly apron (nobody said a word because Stiles would again be using his cooking skills against them) with all of his culinary confidence and put out what he needed for the butterscotch brownies Jackson and Scott had asked for.

The Alpha watched his betas leave the kitchen quietly and make their way to the living room, where Erica and Isaac sat down on the carpeted floor and resumed playing some board game on a tablet, Jackson and Scott joined Danny on the couch to watch some crime series, and Boyd was on one of the chairs far from the TV, reading a book. Again, something was really wrong. There was no way his pack was this well behaved at any given time. Derek let it slide again this time.

"What are you making?" Derek snaked his arms around Stiles' waist, hugging him from behind as Stiles started on making the butterscotch brownies.

"Butterscotch brownies ala mode," answered Stiles, mixing all the dry ingredients in a bowl. "For dessert later. I bought a few gallons of ice cream because you guys eat ice cream like you drink milk, seriously. You guys would probably already have diabetes if you weren't wolves. I don't even eat that much ice cream. I mean I could probably take on the challenge with curly fries eating but ice cream? No thanks. I'd rather not spend half a day in the bathroom-"

"Stiles?" Derek took a lungful of Stiles' scent. It was like breakfast, like newly pressed clothes and maybe sweets in the oven. Just like home.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and cook,"

"Okay, now go melt this in the microwave, Sourwolf," Stiles gave him a bowl of two sticks of butter.

Derek let go and melted the butter in the microwave. He watched Stiles move around in the kitchen (the kitchen he forced Stiles to design and decorate), switching back and forth from making the dessert to their dinner. He took the bowl of butter out of the microwave and set it on the counter for Stiles to use.

"I'll leave you to your kitchen, Stiles." He pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple.

"I'll call everybody when dinner's ready," Stiles said as Derek exited the kitchen.

* * *

Derek closed the doors to the living room, and it caught the attention of his betas. "Alright, what did you do?" he studied the looks on every single one of them. All looked confused, but Derek decided he wasn't going to fall for it if they were acting, but there weren't any rising heart rates.

Danny muted the TV, Isaac closed the laptop, and Scott put away his phone. He'd just texted Allison and Lydia to come to the den.

"What?" said Scott, looking at his alpha like he'd grown two heads.

"What do you mean what did we do?" asked Jackson. He earned a quick glance from Erica, who decided not to say anything.

He caught a whisper from Danny to Jackson. "We're in trouble?" even he sounded like he didn't know what was going on.

"If we did something you'd know, right?" said Isaac, looking up at him from his spot on the floor. The board game app he and Erica were playing with earlier was gone and they were now on Isaac's laptop watching random videos on YouTube.

"You've been suspiciously well behaved the past few weeks. Spit it out." Derek's brows shot up, expecting an answer.

All six werewolves exchanged looks, then looked back at Derek. "Uh...nothing?" said Scott carefully.

"Honestly, we haven't done anything," said Isaac, trying to convince Derek that in fact, they were all innocent of what Derek was accusing them of. "If we had accidentally mauled someone, the news'll get to you faster than you can dial 911,"

"Or probably you'd hear it on your Camaro's radio if you accidentally pushed the AM button—OW!" Jackson gave Danny an almost angry look when the newest member of the pack elbowed his upper arm.

"Don't piss him off more than he already is," said Danny, glaring at Jackson for a few seconds before giving back his attention to his alpha.

All ears, except Derek's perked up when Stiles popped the brownies into the oven. "We're not leaving this room until you tell me what's going on," he crossed his arms, obviously refusing to leave from the spot he was standing on, between his betas and the door.

"But there really _is_ nothing going on," Erica finally spoke up. "We're just behaved like you said because Stiles isn't going to accept any of our breakfast, lunch and dinner requests if we're not behaved!"

Derek stared at her. There were a few moments of silence before he turned to Scott and Jackson. "So you two helped with the groceries," he turned back to Erica and Isaac, "And you two helped restock the pantry because Stiles isn't going to cook if you misbehave?"

"He isn't going to cook, clean the house-" started Jackson.

"Or help us with homework-" continued Scott.

"Or help us with the laundry-" added Erica.

"Or drive us to school!" Isaac finished.

And most of them spent most of the week here, in their den and not in their own homes. Derek hadn't realized how much work Stiles did until they spoke. It wasn't that he didn't like the order, and of course the silence, but how the hell did Stiles manage that?

"Basically, Stiles isn't really going to do anything if we get into a brawl," Boyd finally spoke. He set aside the book he was reading. "The deal was that if we—meaning Scott, Jackson and Erica—behave, we'd get turns asking for what we want for breakfast, lunch, dinner and post training snacks."

"Do you even know why Stiles agreed to have that barbecue tomorrow night?" said Jackson. Derek didn't even flinch and waited for Jackson to continue. "And it's not because it's Saturday Pack Night or what Lydia and Allison's been making up. It's because Isaac got an A on our English test last Wednesday."

Derek raised a brow and turned to Scott. "And how did the rest of you do on that exam?" They took turns to answer. Boyd, Jackson, Danny, Isaac and Erica all got As. "And you?" he looked at Scott. Of course he was concerned with their academics. He had already watched a lifetime's worth of lacrosse since most of the pack was in the team, and he'd already gone to two of Isaac's PTAs.

(A/N: I'm not sure how academic grading goes in the US, so I'll take it that C is like above passing.)

"He got a C." Jackson answered for him, since Scott looked like his tail was between his legs and his ears low. "Which also why _his_ butterscotch brownies won't have ice cream on it like everybody else's," Jackson sounded like he had won something by the way he told Derek that Scott had almost failed another exam.

Derek just nodded. "Let's add to Stiles' rules. No cookies or scones, for anyone who gets anything below a B." he gave a smirk as he opened the living room doors. Besides, when Stiles made cookies or scones they were gone in practically five seconds. So maybe, yes, he was giving the members of his pack a reason to study harder.

"WHAT?!" Scott was the only one who reacted. Everybody had been doing well except him.

"I'm sure Stiles will agree to that since, well," Derek stood at the door's threshold. "He technically tutors everyone even though Danny, Jackson and Boyd don't need tutoring." He left the living room.

"Man," Jackson squeezed Scott's shoulder. "You are going to starve, McCall,"

"I'm going to starve," Scott repeated miserably as every other beta in the room went back to their own business. "I'm going to starve,"

* * *

"You are a genius," said Derek as he entered the kitchen, watching Stiles dress the chicken.

"Of course I am," said Stiles, clearing up the counter of the utensils he had used in making the brownies so that he could start on the pasta and chicken. "Wait, what were we talking about?" he looked at Derek after he put the bowls in the dishwasher. "Oh my god, you're smiling. What happened? Did you have some world domination plan that worked or something? Holy shit, how am I going to explain that to my dad?"

Derek approached Stiles and had him back up onto the counter. Stiles was forced to lift himself up on the marble top. Derek let himself in Stiles' slightly spread legs, scrunching up the blue apron to Stile's crotch, and leaned in for a kiss. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, one hand combing through the hair on the back of Derek's head. Derek's hands, however, were on the counter. Touching Stiles would probably be a bad idea.

Stiles thought making out in the kitchen was hot, but not a good idea. It wasn't a really that bad of an idea, but if they continued there wouldn't be any food for dinner, but also a terrible idea because the others were all in the next room. So he put his hands on Derek's chest, and gently brushed him away. "Okay, first, that was nice, but I'd rather we continue that later in a more appropriate location. Like your room. If you want to christen the kitchen, let's do it some other time. Second, I need to get started on dinner because the pasta takes an hour to make, and there are hungry puppies in the living room. Third, we're supposed to have a conversation about my ingenuity, which we rarely talk about. So I'd like to talk about how awesome I am now, thank you."

There was a pause from Derek. "I'm glad I chose you."

"I'm glad I chose me, too!" said Stiles. "For what, exactly? Come on, Derek. Could you please talk in complete sentences? Like, complete-complete, like tell me what you really wanna say. If it's something you and the others talked about in the living room, I'm sorry I don't have super hearing-"

"I'm glad I chose you as my mate," said Derek, "As pack mom. You take care of them so wonderfully. Like it's natural to you."

"Well, yeah, it's natural," Stiles shrugged a bit. "I_ have_ been taking care of my dad since my mom died, you know. It's hard taking care of my dad, harder taking care of teenagers—oh god, imagine when _we _have children, Derek. I don't want them to turn out like Scott who's brain is always on vacation. Jesus, we have to make Scott stay away from our kids so they don't get his stupidity—wait, is this about the cookie ban if they misbehave? Is that why you're complimenting my parenting skills?"

"I added a few more rules," Derek buried his nose in the crook of Stiles' neck once again. "No cookies or scones for anyone to gets below a B."

"Because Scott got a C in English?" Stiles put his arms around him and pulled him into an embrace.

"Yes."

Stiles chuckled. "Alright, Papa Wolf. Join the puppies in the living room. I need to start cooking,"

Derek let go. "I'll be expecting something to happen in a more appropriate location like my room, Stiles." He echoed Stiles' words from earlier.

Stiles put out the pasta and the ground beef. "If you behave, I'll even take charge." He winked.

Derek's wolf howled.

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Please review. :D


	2. Prequel: Part 1: TWTAMHITHS

**Series Name**: Bribing Werewolf Puppies with Food

Part 1: **The Way To A Man's Heart Is Through His Stomach**  
Part 2: **Mother Knows Best**  
Part 3: **Mama's Boys**

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The Way To A Man's Heart Is Through His Stomach

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Summary: Stiles doesn't want Derek to spend his birthday alone. So he whips up a mean batch of brownies, puts on his red hoodie, and goes over to the Big Bad Wolf's house with a picnic basket full of food. Because hey, growing Alphas need food. Good food. Specially on their birthday. Prequel to Mother Knows Best.

* * *

Notes: This is also posted as a stand alone, but I figured since this is a series and this is a prequel, I'd just post it here, too. Also because this particular story has more followers, so thought you'd like some more chapters! :)

* * *

Stiles had gotten a group message from Scott a few hours ago that there wasn't going to be a pack night tonight and meeting tomorrow, a Saturday, like there always was. He'd asked why, and Scott's reply was that Derek didn't tell him why he decided to call today and tomorrow off. Derek had never called off a pack meeting before. Calling off Friday Pack nights weren't new, especially when they were busy with schoolwork during midterms or finals, or if they had extra training bench warming hours in lacrosse to get ready for a match. There was always something to discuss with his Betas, like new training courses through the woods that surrounded the Hale House, or like continuing the renovations on the third floor (since they're done with the first and second).

It was a Friday afternoon, and sadly, he had some homework to do. Scott was obviously going to have a date with Allison so he wasn't even going to bother asking him anymore. He was supposed to be driving home, but instead he found himself headed over to the Sheriff's station. Maybe he'd have dinner with his father and steal his curly fries, and drive home when he got bored and he'd leave his father to his shift.

He greeted his father's officers as he went in, and made his way into his father's office, and sat down on his father's chair behind his desk like it was his own. He tapped his fingers on the desk and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. Deciding that the ceiling was boring and that he wanted to snoop around, he looked to his right, and saw one of the drawers slightly open.

Stiles leapt to his feet as if someone were after him with an axe, and pulled the drawer open. There were profiles inside. At least profiles of people who had been recently been arrested, and Derek's was there, even though he had been arrested about more than year ago already.

_**HALE, DEREK**__**ANTHONY**_was the label on the cream coloured folder, written with a blue marker. He pulled it out, and sat back down on his father's chair so he could look over Derek's folder thoroughly.

Stiles couldn't believe Derek had a second name. _ANTHONY_. He snickered as he flipped the folder open. He was so going to call him that the next time they met, and preferably when Derek wasn't in a bad mood.

The first thing he saw was Derek's mug shot from a year back, the same one he was holding that night he got his father drunk to fish some info out of him. He held and looked at it the way he held and looked at it the first time. There was a photocopy of Derek's driver's license, too. He had asked Derek how he had a driver's license if his eyes, like all the other puppies', reflected light like a cat's. He said they learned how to control it.

He set the license photocopy aside, and saw Derek's bio data. The first thing he noticed was Derek's birthday. He looked back at the license photocopy. He'd only noticed Derek's picture (because there weren't any glares from his eyes), and not his data.

_**NOVEMBER 7, 1988**__,_ it said in bold.

Holy shit, that was _tomorrow_.

Was that why Derek called off today and tomorrow? Because of his birthday? Maybe he was gonna go out clubbing to celebrate. Wait, could Derek even get drunk?

He rearranged the papers back into the folder, and put it back into the drawer in between the folders he got it from. Stiles was getting the idea that Derek was planning on spending his birthday alone. No way was he letting that happen, even if Derek didn't like him all that much. Even though not everybody liked Stiles, he didn't spend his birthdays alone. He had his dad and Scott to celebrate with. Derek didn't have anyone. Scott didn't look like he liked Derek all that much either, even if he was already his Alpha. And Erica, Boyd and Isaac did anything Derek said without question, and Jackson would be glad to not go. So that left his usual hard headed self to disobey the all-powerful Alpha.

"Hey, Dad! See you at home!" Stiles said as he rushed past the Sheriff who had just gotten in.

"Okay?" the Sheriff watched his son run out the station.

Stiles got in the jeep and drove over to the supermarket. The first thing that Stiles thought of when he came to birthdays was food. Maybe party and booze, but he wasn't old enough to buy alcohol yet, and Derek probably didn't like parties, so yes, food came to mind when someone said birthday.

He pushed the cart through the aisles, thinking why the hell he was going to cook for Derek on his birthday. Sure he made sandwiches and got take out for the pack on Friday and Saturday afternoon training, and Derek ate what he made and bought, but that didn't mean he knew what kind of food Derek liked.

* * *

So he decided on picnic food. Everybody liked picnic food, and they were easy to make. Maybe he should start making these kinds of food for snacks on pack meetings since they got into pizza coma every week. And it wasn't like he didn't know how to cook; besides, his dad said he was a great cook. Derek had already fixed up the kitchen, too, so maybe if Stiles asked him (very, very, very nicely and if it wasn't too much trouble) to fill up their nice kitchen with pots and pans he could use (the kitchen was way too bare except for a microwave and a toaster), or maybe a badass oven so he could bake. Scott did say that he made the meanest cookies. Even if Derek did tell everybody to make themselves at home, it didn't mean he had all the rights to using everything (because there was nothing). Well, actually, he did but, but he didn't have the permission to cook anything he wanted (again, no things to cook with). Usually Derek would just tell him to order take out and Derek'd pay if he was extra nice that day or everyone'd pay their part, or he'd make peanut butter and jelly banana sandwiches and orange juice (mostly he made it for after training snacks).

He was in the supermarket for about two hours, deciding and taking back decisions on what to make for their grumpy Alpha. He ended up getting the groceries for the house too. His dad had given him the instruction yesterday, but he forgot.

Stiles pushed the cart towards his Jeep and loaded the groceries. He'd gotten hungry thinking of what to make for dinner for himself (which would probably just turn out a tuna sandwich if he got lazy enough) and what to make for Derek on Saturday.

The drive home made his stomach grumble even louder. He'd been thinking of what to cook for Derek since he entered the supermarket, and it's making both his stomach and head hurt. Tonight he was going to do some research and write down some things he thought Derek might like.

He was right. He _was_ going to get lazy. Actually, he got even lazier. He didn't have a tuna sandwich for dinner, he had a box of pop tarts and two glasses of milk, because he was way too preoccupied with researching what kind of food he could make with all the stuff he bought from the supermarket that afternoon.

He ended up on sites like TLC for the picnic food. He'd decided to make brownies, too. There was no way Derek didn't like brownies. This also reminded him that one day (after asking permission from Derek to supply him with the very much needed kitchen utensils at the Hale house), he was going to make the pack a badass batch of wicked Oreos. Or some butterscotch brownies/apple pie ala mode.

One thing he noticed about himself since he and Scott joined the pack (Derek thought of it as some kind of package, saying that if Stiles joined, Scott would join since he needed Stiles, or if Scott joined, he had to take Stiles with him), was that he was always thinking of the pack. He guessed one of the reasons why he was always thinking of the pack's well-being was because Derek had said 'Your role is to take care of them.' He had no idea what that meant. But if he did say so himself, he was doing a pretty good job of feeding them, even if it were always take out and sandwiches, keeping the arguments, wolfing out and maiming at bay, and even if it meant driving them to school.

Back to the food for Derek's birthday, he also decided not to make too much of one thing, or too many things. He printed three recipes; a salad for a starter, and two for mains, and those brownies for dessert. He'd love to bring ice cream, but that might melt on the drive to the house. What the hell, he'd bring ice cream. He'd just have to buy those tubs from the convenience store that were frozen solid, enough to make Derek's brow burst if he threw the tub to his face. But then he thought of the weather. It was getting cold and ice cream was probably not a good idea. He'd decide tomorrow on the way to the den (Derek liked calling it a den because it practically was one).

Now that everything was decided for, Stiles grabbed his phone and set the alarm to the time he'd estimated his dad would be home so he could make the pancakes for breakfast, and so he could start making Derek's birthday lunch. He just hoped Derek would be home tomorrow. Since this was a surprise birthday present (sort of?), he wasn't going to tell Derek his great and evil master plan to disobey him, not that disobeying him wasn't a normal part of the day already.

He'd pass by his mom tomorrow on his way to Derek's, to talk to her a bit, probably thank her for teaching him how to cook, for giving him the talent of taking care of people. Taking care of people reminded Stiles of his mom. Sure he took 'Your role is to take care of them,' badly at first, because hell, it reminded him of his mom (he had a panic attack or two, he couldn't remember) and there was no way in hell he was going to be a whole pack's nanny. He didn't turn out to be the pack's nanny. He just didn't have a word for 'looking after teenagers who I'm not related to by blood whatsoever, and helping them with homework and laundry.' That didn't sound like a nanny to him. He didn't feel like a nanny to them. Well, whatever the word for it was, he was getting some respect because Jackson wasn't such an ass (still was one, but not as much), Isaac is being an adorable puppy and Erica hadn't threatened to rip his throat out or make him look at her boobs.

The recipes were set aside on the table, and Stiles opened his Chemistry book to do homework. He'd probably do this until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. Scott wasn't texting him, neither was any other member of the pack. He was probably the only one home doing homework. Jackson and Lydia, might be on a date. Obviously Scott's with Allison, and Boyd, Erica and Isaac were probably out partying.

He chuckled to himself when he remembered Derek giving Isaac a curfew one Saturday. The pack meeting was done, and everybody except Stiles wanted to go out. Derek allowed them to, and since Isaac was the only one permanently living with Derek, he'd been given a curfew. Derek wanted to give him somewhere along ten, but Stiles managed to convince Derek to give him until midnight.

Chemistry homework was easy enough, so he turned to English. He took the book he'd bought the other day at the bookstore from his bag. It was this month's second book report. He didn't like the book that much since the story was so damn sad. He'd already finished a few chapters, and put the book back in his bag. No way was he going to sleep with depressing thoughts in mind. It might just ruin his drive to cook his father breakfast and Derek his lunch.

Unable to find something to do, Stiles gave up and cleared up his desk. He made sure he didn't misplace the recipes, and took a quick round of everything he had to do in the bathroom before going to bed. Pulling up his sheets, he thought of what Derek would think that he'd gone through the trouble of thinking of him and cooking for him on his special day. He'd probably think Stiles was an idiot because he disobeyed his orders. Well, he was human, and the Alpha eyes and roar didn't work on him. And trying to avoid everyone on his birthday wasn't going to work on him either.

Then he remembered the line from Lilo and Stitch. 'Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.' He was _so_ going to use that against Derek tomorrow. Derek had mentioned that pack was family, and since he was part of the pack, that meant he was family. If he was family, then there was no way he'd let Derek sulk tomorrow. Keeping the other wolves uninformed about Derek's birthday wasn't a family thing to do, but Derek probably wasn't doing to appreciate a party. And he didn't enough for a party of six wolves who ate like a small army.

So yes, lunch with Derek was good. He just hoped Derek wouldn't slam him onto a wall. He also hoped Derek would like his cooking.

* * *

"Tell me this is all for me," said the Sheriff as he entered the kitchen the next morning. He'd just gotten home from his shift. Stiles was cooking an amount of food enough for the both of them for until tomorrow. There were disposable microwavable plastic containers on the table, filled mostly with picnic food.

"Nope," said Stiles, serving his father a plate of pancakes and a mug of freshly brewed coffee. He swatted his father's hand away from the chicken wraps when the older Stilinski tried to reach for one. "Not for you,"

"Who's it for then?" Sheriff frowned as he poured the maple syrup over the tiny chunk of butter on his stack of pancakes.

"For Derek. It's his birthday today," he answered as he stirred the farfalle in the boiling water.

"Didn't you mention that you didn't like him that much?" said the Sheriff, watching stiles move around the kitchen in his wife's apron. He smiled. "You throwing a party for him?"

"Well, I know him better now," Stiles put on some mittens so he could lift the pot and drain the pasta in the sink. "Even if he was accused of killing his sister and was exonerated, I don't think he deserves to be alone on his birthday. He's really a good guy, so maybe some company and some good food might lighten him up," he put the pasta into a big bowl, and started dressing it. "No, it's just the two of us. He didn't want the others to know it was his birthday, but I know, so I'm going to respect most of his wishes to be left alone. Hey, at least it's just me, my big mouth and my awesome cooking,"

The Sheriff's smile didn't leave his lips. Stiles always did have a big heart. "You gonna make some extra for me? Besides, if it's just the two of you, why are you making so much?"

"Yep," Stiles gave his father a smile as he prepared the farfalle, putting the ingredients in the bowl for the pasta salad. "And Derek can _eat_, Dad. If you think I'm a pig when there are curly fries on the table, you've never seen Derek,"

The older Stilinski stood up when he finished his breakfast, wrapped an arm around his son, and pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple. Stiles reminded him so much of his wife. His eyes, his smile, his big heart… "There better be a huge dinner for me when I wake up, Stiles,"

For a moment, Stiles felt like he was eight again. He smiled up at his father. "You bet," before his dad could make his exit, "I love you, Dad. Sweet dreams,"

"I love you, too, son," the Sheriff stood at the threshold for a few more moments, watching his son move through the kitchen, seeing his mother so strongly in him.

* * *

Backing out wasn't an option. Besides, Derek must've heard the Jeep (and his pounding heart) the moment he entered the preserve. He was sure that this was a good idea yesterday afternoon, last night and this morning, but now he wasn't even close to 25% sure. But he wasn't going to back out. He was going up to the den, knock on that door, and have lunch with Derek because it was his birthday.

He pulled up the half-done house next to the Camaro, and stepped out of the Jeep with the basket of food in hand. "Derek?" he called as he walked up to the porch. "Are you home?" he knocked three times on the door.

The Camaro was there, so he must be home, unless that Derek went out for a run. Derek looked like he worked hard to maintain his body (and if he didn't work hard to keep those abs well Stiles would just kill himself), so there was a big possibility that he was out, probably ran out to the gym, because Derek could _run_.

"Derek?" he called again, reaching for the doorknob. Just because he spent a lot of time in his house didn't give him the right to just barge in (unlike in Scott's house because duh, that was Scott's house and this was Derek's house). He was going to knock this time, because Derek told them to back off but he didn't back off so he was going to be polite today. He was about to open the door when he heard someone behind him speak.

"What are you doing here?"

Stiles almost dropped the basket. "Jesus _Christ_!" he set it down and put a hand to his chest, feeling the thumping of his rapidly beating heart against his ribcage. He turned around. He knew that voice all too well. It even sounded like how they were asked the first time they were asked what he and Scott were doing on the property.

Derek on the yellow, brown and orange leaf covered lawn of the den, standing there with all of his creepy-werewolfy glory, wearing his signature black leather jacket and his five o'clock shadow. Stiles thought Derek looked better with it than without it.

"What the hell, Derek?" he sank down onto his bottom on the porch, his leg folded and his arms on his knees. He stared at the floor of the porch, trying to calm down, and then looked back up at Derek. Scott told him that when his heart was beating too fast it hurt his ears, so he was trying to calm down. He didn't know if it hurt Derek's ears or not. "You're a total creeper! Well, at least not as creepy as Edward but I have to say that I'm thankful you look a thousand times better than he does. I mean seriously, why do girls like that guy? He sparkles and thank God _you_ don't sparkle—"

"Who the hell's Edward? And you're still not answering my question,"

"I thank all the divine beings out there that you have no idea who Edward is, Derek," Stiles stood up and dusted himself off. "You know, with him being this gay vampire and you being this badass Alpha werewolf, I thought you'd know who he is. Hey, do you know who Jacob is? Because seriously he's the kind of 'werewolf'—" Stiles did the air quotations, "—who's not even a werewolf. I mean you and Professor Lupin from Harry Potter do werewolves justice but him? Oh god, he's like an overgrown Chihuahua. And you're just better off not knowing about this shit. He's a shapshifter in a literal sense. He just turns into a huge dog. Not unlike you guys who get claws and bare fangs and the scary eyes. I don't even get why Lydia even read it—"

"Stiles!" Derek was used to Stiles' banter, but that doesn't mean he didn't find it annoying. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't, like when he was under pressure or he was thinking too much, he found Stiles' constant talking bringing him back. His wolf found Stiles' presence comforting, like Stiles kept him grounded. Stiles kept him human.

But right now his wolf didn't just feel and want Stiles' comfort, there was this irrational need to drag him inside the house and never give him back to society. That was kidnapping, so no, not a good idea.

"Yes?"

"_What_ are you doing here?" Derek said again. "I called off yesterday and today. Didn't Scott tell you?"

"Actually, he did," answered Stiles. "But you know me, I tend to disobey a lot," Stiles beamed at him.

"Yeah, and you're making a habit of it,"

Stiles ignored that. "And I'm here because it's your birthday, and I brought lunch," he picked up the basket.

Derek arched a brow. "And how exactly did you find out that it's my birthday?" he walked up to the porch steps.

"Ah, that is a cool story," said Stiles. "Your arrest profile was most educational."

"Right," Derek nodded, "And what are you, Little Red Riding Hood? Walking into the Big Bad Wolf's trap?"

"What?" Stiles gave Derek a genuinely confused look. "What do you mean Little Red—" he looked at what he was wearing. He was wearing his red hoodie. "Oh God," he frowned. "I didn't—I mean I just grabbed this because—I'm not trying to mock you or anything—I wasn't really thinking—you're never going to let me forget this are you?"

Derek laughed. Derek laughing wasn't really new anymore, but there had to be something really good to laugh at for him to laugh. And Stiles making a fool of himself was good enough. "Get in. Let's eat. I'm hungry," he walked past Stiles and went in the house. "Close the door," he said. He hung his jacket in the nearby closet.

Stiles did close the door and followed Derek to the closet. Derek was grinning at him, his teeth were out. "Derek, what big teeth you have,"

Derek decided to play along. He flashed his red eyes and let his canines out. "The better to rip your throat out with,"

"Oh, God, please don't kill me," Stiles backed away and closed his eyes.

"Now why would I kill the one who brought me food?" said Derek, retracting his canines. He sat on one of the stools at the counter. "So what did you bring me?"

Stiles opened one eye. Derek was sniffing (because seriously, these wolves _love_ to use their nose for everything and seriously how the hell could these stupid wolves smell emotion?) the basket he brought. No more red eyes and big canine teeth. Yes, it was safe to move. "Right, uh…" he stepped towards the counter and lifted the lid of the basket, revealing several microwavable containers. He joined Derek on one of the stools.

Derek watched Stiles put all of the clear containers out. He wasn't just watching, but he was also sniffing each and every container Stiles set on the counter. He just wasn't doing it like a puppy would, like he did earlier. He just let the scent come to him.

"I brought you some salad," said Stiles, opening the container with the salad, already tossed in Caesar dressing. "For an appetizer, I guess? These isn't really a five start hotel seven course meal—"

"Stiles, just tell me what you brought." Derek was getting a little impatient because Stiles didn't really have to explain to him why he decided to bring him these dishes, and also because he was hungry.

"Right. Right." Stiles nodded and brought out the rest of the food. "So yeah, the salad. It's Caesar. Don't know if you ate vegetables, since you know, Big Bad Alpha Wolf and all that," he started opening the other containers. He told Derek what they were and didn't include an explanation like he was told. "Uh…Pasta Salad, Chicken Tortilla Wraps, and brownies."

"Great. Let's eat." Derek got off the stool and grabbed some paper plates and (surprisingly) some new-looking silverware from the one of the drawers. He handed Stiles a plate, and a fork and knife and a serving spoon for the pasta. He served himself some salad first.

"Where did you get these?" Stiles asked, looking at the handle of the intricately designed knife and fork.

"They were in the basement. Found them, cleaned the soot and dust off." said Derek, digging in the salad.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Stiles swatted Derek's hand away like he did with his father. "Wash your hands first!"

Derek glared at him (sans the red Alpha eyes) and grumbled, but washed his hands anyway. He wasn't really angry. Stiles was just doing his job, taking care of him. He was doing a pretty good job of it, too, and he liked it. He liked it a whole damn lot, way, way more than he really should, like he wanted Stiles around _all_ the time. He'd felt like this before, but not as strong as this, maybe because now, Stiles was taking care of him, and he had all of Stiles' undivided attention.

Stiles followed him, also washed his hands and joined him back at the counter. "_Now_, you can eat."

Derek started to eat. His wolf begged to be closer to Stiles, but he stayed on his stool. His wolf was the reason why he told Stiles his role in the pack was to take care of them, of him, not only because Derek knew how capable Stiles was. "Those are probably one of the things my parents bought that didn't get the chance to use," Because when he was around Stiles he felt comfortable. He felt at home. It was like the warmth of his bed when he came home from a stressful day from work.

"They look expensive."

"It's not going to break if you use it. Now eat."

Stiles smiled as he watched Derek eat. "Is it good?" he asked, serving himself some of the salad.

"Yes," answered Derek.

Stiles handed the Alpha a napkin from the basket, seeing the smear of dressing on Derek's bottom lip. Derek gratefully took it and wiped his mouth. "I'm glad you like it," it was one of the few times that Stiles was speechless. Not everyone got to have a taste of his cooking, and not everyone told him that his cooking was good.

He was about to start on his salad when he saw Derek about to finish his, so he took the container with the pasta salad and served him a few spoonful and a chicken wrap. "So," said Derek, "I told everyone they have the day off. Why'd you come here? I was hoping to get some quiet time."

"Ever watch Lilo and Stitch?" asked Stiles, biting into a leaf.

Derek thought for a moment. He'd heard of it. He'd seen a few scenes, but never the whole movie. "No."

"Why not?" Stiles frowned.

Derek shrugged.

Stiles hoped Derek had already watched the movie. "We're watching it. All of us. Friday next week. Even if Scott and I have seen it a million times. We're going to see it _again_. Just so you can watch it." He put a crouton into his mouth. "The answer is in the movie. Lilo said 'Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.' And you said we're pack. That I'm pack. I honestly have no idea why you wanted me here since I'm pretty much useless—"

"No, you're not." Derek couldn't help but interrupt him. His wolf didn't like it that Stiles was thinking so little of himself. Not since Stiles had saved his ass several times.

"—especially in the field where you guys are all fast and running and with all your claws slicing through logs and metal and sharpening them our lockers like Isaac did back then when they were newly bitten. Scott's got his co-captain thing in the lacrosse thing going and I'm still a resident benchwarmer. And Allison, you know she's badass with her crossbow and Lydia with her archaic Latin. I mean it'd take me years to learn what she can do with Gerard's beastiary—"

"STILES!"

"Yes?" squeaked Stiles.

"Don't you _ever_ say you're useless." Derek growled. Like, really growled. Alpha eyes and scary teeth.

"Don't wolf out on me—oh God!" Stiles put his hands over his eyes.

"Look at me, Stiles." Stiles reluctantly took his hands off his eyes and looked at Derek. "Don't _ever_ say you're useless," Derek said again. "Ever," Stiles nodded. "_Everybody_ in the pack has a role. _Nobody_ is useless. Remember that."

Stiles nodded. "Okay,"

Growling was probably not a good idea. He felt Stiles' discomfort. He said the first thing that came to his mind to at least try to make Stiles feel better, growling and wolfing out aside. "The food's good. Thank you,"

And that took all of Stiles' uneasiness away, together with the tension between them (and also gave him the reddest blush he had in _ages_ because DUH he'd been in love with Derek since that day he and Scott first met him in the forest and Derek liked his cooking). He smiled. "Thank you, too. And you're welcome," he resumed eating his almost forgotten salad.

"So you were saying?" Derek said after about a minute of silence (which was miraculous). The silence was awkward. Stiles was always awkward, but he didn't want it to be awkward this time.

"Huh?" Stiles had a piece of lettuce hanging out the corner of his mouth.

"About Lilo and Stitch?" Derek's brows shot up, as if saying 'Duh.'

"Oh, right." Stiles nodded. "You said I'm pack. And that pack is family," he served himself some of the pasta salad. "And I don't think family would let family spend his birthday like this." He set the container down and looked at Derek. "In a half burnt, half renovated house—with amazing heating, I might add despite having about half the roof missing—sulking. Because family wants family to be happy, right? I don't want you being alone on your day. I want to remind you that we're here. Whether you like it or not, and whatever happens." Because Stiles would never leave Derek alone. "'Nobody gets left behind or forgotten.'"

Derek was silent. He was about to say something, but Stiles started to speak again.

"I know telling the others isn't really a family thing to do, but yeah, you told us to take the day off and I didn't want you growling at everybody because you didn't like a party and also, I didn't have enough to feed the whole pack even if I wanted a party in here so…yeah…" Stiles nodded awkwardly as he finished his explanation.

The food Stiles put on Derek's plate was already half finished. Derek really liked the food, even though he only allowed himself to say that it was good. It wasn't just good; it was _good_. His wolf was still begging to be closer to Stiles, but Derek didn't let the wolf get what he wanted.

"Thank you," said Derek, lightly nodding. "That was thoughtful of you,"

Of course Stiles was thoughtful. That was why his wolf chose him for this role. It wasn't just because he was thoughtful; he was affectionate (Isaac loved cuddling with him); he was brave (he wouldn't have any second thoughts on stepping in front danger for any of them); he was intelligent and an evil genius (he was able to devise plans Derek would never have thought of); he was determined and persistent in a good way (like now that he decided to try to make Derek feel that he wasn't alone and that he needed good food even though Derek told them he wanted to be alone); he also had no idea how powerful he was (with that Mountain Ash mojo, he was like, Deaton's apprentice or something); his wolf knew what Stiles was capable of. He was like Harry Potter with all that love inside of him. And because he had all that love, he tried his best to give it to everyone, making sure that the ones who needed it most got a lot of it (like Isaac and Derek).Then Derek wished all the supernatural shit that attacked Beacon Hills were like Voldemort (not the part where he's like Hitler and powerful as fuck with thousands of minions) that they'd turn to dust at Stiles' touch.

Stiles' touch…he wondered what that would feel like.

Derek watched Stiles wipe his mouth with a fresh napkin from the basket. The boy just smiled at him. The wolf in him just wanted to cuddle up to Stiles, keep him safe in here in their den, and soak up all of his attention.

Derek cleared his throat, trying to shake off the idea. The wolf whined at him for ignoring the wishes.

"Oh, sorry," said Stiles, reaching into the basket to take some bottled iced tea. "Don't want you to choke," he opened the bottle for him. "Leave some room for dessert, okay?" he watched Derek take more food from the containers. "I brought brownies, too,"

_Brownies_, he thought, looking up at Stiles. His mom made different kinds of brownies for him and Laura on Sundays, and he liked his brownies with a tall glass of cold milk. "Brownies?"

"Mhmm," Stiles took one of the chicken wraps. "I didn't know what kind you liked, so I made fudge ones with chocolate chips, fudge with white chocolate chips, and butterscotch. I was thinking of Food for the Gods, too, but I'm not sure if you like those so I didn't make them—"

Would it be a good idea if he made Stiles cook for them? For the pack? Wouldn't it be weird if he asked Stiles to make him food? He _was_ sick of takeout, and takeout was probably going to give him a hard time maintaining his abs. His wolf was screaming yes, practically howling for him to ask Stiles. The only problem was _how_ he was going to ask Stiles. It was going to be one hell of an awkward conversation.

"Brownies are good." Derek nodded, taking a swig of the iced tea. He was pretending to find those bow shaped pasta very interesting. He couldn't look at Stiles with all the thoughts running through his head.

"I didn't bring mini-candles, though. Not sure if you'll like blowing out candles," Stiles finished his chicken wrap. "So, how young is our fearless leader?"

Derek raised a brow at him. Fearless leader? Really? "Twenty-four," he put another piece of those bow shaped pasta into his mouth. He liked the pasta a lot. The food felt, tasted and smelled like Stiles had put a lot of effort in it. It felt like home.

"Do you drink?"

"Yes."

"Do you get drunk?"

"We can't get drunk."

"How come?"

"High tolerance. Wolf thing."

"So you_ can _get drunk?"

"I don't know."

"You've never been drunk?"

"No."

"What do you usually drink?"

"Beer."

"You ever get drunk from beer?"

"Who the hell gets drunk from beer?"

"I'm just asking! What else aside from beer do you drink?"

"Wine and champagne on occasion, and no, I've never gotten drunk from them."

"Whiskey?"

"Never had a glass in one go but I think I'll get drunk after two or three bottles."

Stiles grinned.

"No, we're not going to drink."

"AAWW, COME ON! It's your birthday!"

"My birthday is not an excuse to drink."

"Birthdays are always an excuse to drink!"

"I'm not taking a step out of this house. They're not going to sell any to a minor."

Stiles frowned. "Okay," he stabbed the bow pasta and ate it.

"But what we _are_ going to do," Derek had finished eating. "Is we're going to finish your brownies until we fall into a chocolate induced coma."

"Chocolate or wine?" Derek rolled his eyes when Stiles had that stupid grin again.

"Since we have no wine, and I'm not buying any for you, I'm going with chocolate," he shoved the paper plate he used into the trash bin and washed the silverware before putting it back into its drawer.

"You. Are. Awesome!" Stiles scarfed down the rest of the food on his plate, and cleared up the counter before taking out the three containers of brownies. White chocolate, chocolate and butterscotch. "I was supposed to bring ice cream,"

"And why didn't you?" Derek watched Stiles open the containers, and grabbed one of the chocolate chip ones.

"I dunno. I decided last night to pick some up on the way here but I forgot," Stiles shrugged. "I guess I was thinking too much. You know, what if you didn't like the food and stuff…" he trailed off as he bit into one of the butterscotch squares. "Do you like it?" he asked with a full mouth.

Derek swallowed. "Don't talk when your mouth is full," he took one of the white chocolate chip brownies.

Stiles smiled when Derek took another one. He felt happy. Hey, the love of his life (it wasn't Lydia anymore, okay; he got over her because she never paid attention to him and Derek sort of did after the whole joining the pack thing and because Derek was a hot little creeper when he and Scott first met him) liked his cooking. If only he could make feeding a pack of werewolves a living.

Derek ended up eating more squares than Stiles did. The three containers were empty. The brownies were gone like Stiles didn't even make any. "Dude, do you have a black hole in your gut or something?"

"Or something," said Derek, taking two bottles of water from the fridge. He threw one to Stiles. "It was good. Everything's good."

"You're going to make my chest explode," Stiles reddened again. The blush spread from his cheeks to his ears.

"And why is that?" Derek joined him back on the counter, and Stiles was right, his chest_ was _going to explode (figuratively, of course), because his heartbeat was like a rabbit's thumping foot.

"Because," Stiles took a few gulps of water. "Only my dad and Scott have had things I make. Nobody else has told me that they like my cooking," Holy shit he was having a heart to heart conversation slash confession with Derek and that never really happened. "I like cooking. It's like a hobby. Reminds me of my mom. It calms me down. It calms Scott down or excites him when I made him cookies. He just doesn't ask me to make any more because he's always busy with Allison—"

"Then make the pack some," Derek couldn't bite it back. It just came out. Stupid wolf.

"Huh?" Stiles stared at him.

"Cook for the pack. If you like it so much." Derek stared back. "I'm sure they'll appreciate home cooked food better than take out,"

"Uh…Derek, master of his house, fearless leader, brooding extraordinaire, great Alpha of Beacon Hills, Big Bad Wolf—there, I said it, you happy?—in case you haven't noticed, your kitchen is bare as fuck, and nothing will fit in your fridge if you want me to feed a pack of werewolves," Stiles leaned on his elbows on the counter. "And I don't think I can make cookies in this environment," okay, so maybe that wasn't as nice as he'd planned to ask him. But Derek offered so he was going to speak his mind.

Derek looked around. It _was_ bare, save for the sink, the microwave and the toaster. When he set his eyes back on Stiles, he was already packing the containers back into the basket. Stiles left the leftover pasta and chicken wraps on the counter. "Then we'll decorate it,"

"What?"

Stiles was again staring at him with those big brown eyes and Derek just made him want to drag Stiles to his room and keep him there. Because Derek wanted to go to him to feel safe. This had been going on for a while, but the need to keep Stiles (the hell? Stiles wasn't a lost and found item) wasn't this bad before, because he'd never really been this close to Stiles before. He'd never really been alone with him like this, never alone with him for so long like this (when they weren't in a life threatening situation). He'd never really been alone with Stiles because he wanted to.

"We'll decorate it," said Derek again. "No, _you'll_ decorate it."

"Are…are you serious?" Stiles was looking at him in disbelief. "Seriously?"

Derek nodded. "If you enjoy cooking, I don't see why I can't indulge you. You can cook all you want for the pack. You can even turn the pack into your lab rats for your experimental recipes,"

"I want to hug you right now, but I'm not sure that's a good idea," Stiles' heart was still trying to beat its way out of his ribcage. "S-sorry, am I hurting your ears? Scott tells me to try and calm down when anything gets me nervous because my heart kinda hurts his ears,"

Derek arched an eyebrow. Scott really was stupid sometimes. He didn't appreciate the more important things. If Stiles were his best friend, it'd be some kind of comfort and relief for him that he could hear his heart and that he was alive. Scott should win the highest award for skewed priorities because his priorities are seriously fucked up.

"No," he said, "I find heartbeats quite comforting. I prefer it if the heart is calm,"

"Okay, calming down. Calming down," Stiles took deep breaths. "So you're really gonna let me cook?"

"The kitchen is your territory now," Derek had no idea why that came out. It was like his wolf wanted to give Stiles everything. _He _wanted to give Stiles everything.

_Mate_.

What?

"Seriously?!" Stiles' face brightened as he smiled. "Know what, I went to my mom today! Thanked her for teaching me how to cook. It's finally paying off!"

It was like Stiles was worming his way into him with the way he cared for the pack. With the way Stiles just showed how much he cared for him, enough to slave in the kitchen and make him this wonderful lunch.

"From now on," Derek started. He wasn't even going to supress his instinctual responses to whatever Stiles was doing. "You're not just going to take care of us. You're not some helper around here in the den. You're…you're…" Derek didn't know if he should already say it. It was a rank higher than his Betas, a rank that equalled him.

"Pack mom?" Stiles finished for him.

"Yes." Derek nodded.

"Figured."

"You knew?" Derek asked, bewildered.

"Sorta, I think?" said Stiles, "Isaac is a cuddly puppy, you know. He's taken a liking to coming to me for problems. Reminds me of me with my mom. But you know, I'm completely fine with it. Pack mom? Awesome. I get to cook and see you guys eat the food I make and seriously? Just now? Hearing you say that my cooking is good and seeing you enjoy it? Man, more rewarding than slaying any supernatural crap out there,"

"Stiles—" Derek cut himself off, looking worried about what Stiles had just said. "Do you have any idea how—" he thought for a moment. "How serious that role is?"

"Hell yeah!" Stiles looked like he'd just won the lottery. "I mean, dude! You just gave me complete authority over your kitchen! And you just said we'll decorate it! Means I get a badass oven for a roast and for even more badass brownies! It's serious because without me, you guys are sure to starve and die from take out,"

"This isn't a joke, Stiles!" Derek snarled. Stiles leaned back a bit from him. "Being pack mom isn't just about taking care of the pack. It's…it's something more. Being pack mom means you outrank Scott. You outrank each and every one of them,"

Stiles was just staring at him, trying to figure out what Derek trying to tell him. "Outrank?"

"Yes," breathed Derek. "Being pack mom…" he paused. "It means you're the Alpha's mate. It means we're equals. And it means forever. Werewolves are…are aggressively monogamous…"

The boy's eyes were on him, looking at him with such uncertainty. Stiles looked away for a moment, and put his thinking cap on. His heart started to race again, too, and Derek could hear it loud and clear.

"Stiles?"

"I know it's not a joke," Stiles started. He looked at Derek. "Do you want me to, though?" he asked, "Do you want me to be pack mom?"

"Yes," Derek breaths out. "Yes, that's why I gave you that role in the first place. I just…"

Ah, yes. There was Derek's problem. He wasn't good at communicating. It was good that Stiles got the right idea. If he didn't, Derek would still be emotionally constipated.

"I just didn't want to force the idea onto you," he said. It frustrated Derek that he wanted Stiles so much when he didn't even like him at all at first. "You take care of Scott, and I thought maybe you could do the same for the rest of us, that's why I said you and Scott are a package deal. If he joins, you join. The way you never forget, the way you make sure everyone's well fed, the way you calm them down, the way you tend to their injuries during training especially when I'm the one who…" he didn't continue that sentence. "My instincts, my wolf, it's hard to ignore them. My wolf thinks…"

Derek looked away and let out a growl. A startled Stiles almost fell off the stool. Ignoring his instincts wasn't the only thing he was finding difficult to do.

"My wolf thinks you're my mate," Derek finally got it out.

"Mate?" Stiles repeated. Derek started pacing on the other side of the counter and Stiles followed him with his eyes.

"Because you take care of the cubs, more than I'm able to. You take care of them, you take care of me!" Derek had no idea why this was so affecting him so much both in a bad way and a good way that Jesus Christ he wanted to claim Stiles on the counter right then and there. "Because I feel comfortable around you. I feel safe. I have this irrational need for you to be here with me. To be near me at all times...and you smell like home. Like a warm bed, like breakfast…"

"Is that a bad thing?" Stiles asked carefully.

"No, it's not!" Derek answered immediately. All this had happened just because of lunch. A lunch that Derek would never be able to forget.

"Then what are you so upset about?" asked Stiles, "If I'm your mate, then we can make it work. I'm pretty sure I'm completely head over heels for a certain grumpy Alpha,"

"What?" Derek stopped in his steps and looked at Stiles, who was making his way towards him. "What about Lydia?"

"Hey, strawberry blonde closet geniuses are hot, but scowling Alpha werewolves with permanent stubble are hotter," Stiles chuckled, running a finger over the square of Derek's strong jaw.

"But you don't smell like arousal," said Derek.

Yes, Stiles' touch was good. Really good.

Stiles looked at him incredulously. "I'm not sure arousal is a requirement for falling in love. Your body? Your annoyingly perfect face? Oh yeah, that's a big, big, big bonus. Like a huge dollop of frosting and sprinkles and a cherry. But I think I'm more attracted to you being your broody Sourwolf self with big heart. You're all prickly on the outside and soft on the side. You make my heart beat fast when you look at me. You make me more nervous than aroused because…well, because I'm scared you'd find out and based from my years of experience, not like me back. I'm pretty used to rejection, so—"

Derek kissed him. No way was he going to let Stiles talk about himself like he was nothing. He pulled Stiles closer, his arms snaking around his waist. The kiss wasn't anything too 'graphic' if this were a movie. It was just something to make Stiles shut up because he was so much more than what he thought he was.

Sometimes, Stiles thought too much. But this time, Derek had pretty much short circuited his brain. No thinking going on at all. He did close his eyes though, and returned the embrace, putting his arms over Derek's broad shoulders to pull him down further.

When Derek pulled away, Stiles pressed his forehead to the older man's and smiled. "I think I can handle Alpha mate. Happy birthday, Derek. I'm happy you were born,"

* * *

Things were good. Really good. Because come Monday afternoon, Stiles had everything he needed and wanted in his kitchen. Derek was one rich son of a bitch. Derek got him everything he wanted. He had a badass oven, all the pots and pans, and all the kinds of utensils he could ever imagine and a huge fridge to go with it, too. All were installed Sunday afternoon because Derek was an impatient ass. All it took was a little roll of green paper. They went on a shopping spree at the supermarket, too, because Derek wanted the pantry fully stocked when the pack arrived on Monday afternoon. Stiles _was_ about to feed a small army.

Stiles even replicated his Mother's blue frilly apron to use at Derek's hou—no—their den.

He had just finished making cookies; they were cooling on the counter and he had just popped two pans of brownies into the oven. He felt Derek's arms around his waist and his chin on his shoulder as he prepared the lasagne. Derek had given him a leather bound book yesterday afternoon; it was a collection of all his mother's recipes. Derek didn't give dancing around a chance and asked Stiles to make him his mother's lasagne for dinner that night. Stiles happily obliged.

"They're here," said Derek, watching Stiles lay out the pasta. "Isaac, Scott, Allison, Erica and Boyd are in Allison's car. Scott's driving. Lydia's with Jackson."

"How much do you think I should make?" asked Stiles, setting aside the tray to lay out another one.

"Four or five, maybe?" Derek closed his eyes and just held his young mate, savouring Stiles' wonderful scent.

Stiles felt Derek's deep and long breaths. "Do I really smell that good?" he asked.

"You have no idea," answered Derek, "When I claim you, you're going to start smelling good to the others, too," the second Stiles said he'd date Derek (not exactly that way, but the werewolf way), he had started scenting him. He wanted Stiles to smell like him all the time.

"You haven't really explained all of your werewolf terminology to me yet, you know," said Stiles, "I'd like a dictionary of it, please? Thank you,"

"Claiming is done when I first have sex with you,"

Stiles paused. "Wow. When are we gonna do that?"

"When you're ready," Derek buried his nose in the nook of Stiles' neck when Stiles resumed with making their dinner.

"You're scenting me right now, aren't you?"

"Yes,"

"And you're enjoying it aren't you?"

"Yes,"

"You're doing it because you want the pack to know?"

"Mhmmm." Derek buried his nose further in.

Footsteps came thundering up the porch, and barged into the den. They heard a 'Stiles! Are you making cookies?!' from Scott as they ran in. All of them (minus Jackson and Lydia) stopped at the threshold of the kitchen. Derek and Stiles looked at their indescribable faces. It was Scott who reacted first.

"What the hell are you doing?! Stop molesting Stiles!"

* * *

Please review! :) I like reviews. And faves. This is also posted as a stand alone, but I figured since this is a series and this is a prequel, I'd just post it here, too. Please visit me on AO3! My username is littlechinesedoll :)


	3. Part 3: Mama's Boys

**Series Name**: Bribing Werewolf Puppies with Food

Part 1: **The Way To A Man's Heart Is Through His Stomach**  
Part 2: **Mother Knows Best**  
Part 3: **Mama's Boys**

* * *

Mama's Boys

* * *

Summary: Jackson's trying to get over the last break up with Lydia. Isaac has a wound from training with Derek and it's not healing well. Who better to make them feel better than Mama Stiles? And Derek has to do something about Stiles' aging Jeep. It's not safe to drive in that thing. He needs to take care of Stiles, too.

* * *

Notes: I have no idea if it even snows in California, so I'm going to assume that it doesn't, and that it just goes really cold. I also have no idea how to do shit in cold weather since I live in a tropical country where it's over 25C all the damn time, so I'll just wing it. This is unbeta'd, so mistakes are mine.

* * *

"DEREK!" screamed Stiles, running over to Isaac who was bleeding on the ground. "Oh God," he said as he knelt down beside the beta, who was bleeding on his side. "Shush, shush, you're okay," Stiles gently moved Isaac's head from the ground to his lap.

Derek retracted his claws and canines as his red eyes slowly went back to their usual green as he rushed to Stiles and Isaac's side. "Fuck," he said when Stiles lifted the torn shirt and revealed three deep gashes on Isaac's side. "What the hell are you standing around for?!" he snarled at the rest of the pack. "Go get the first aid ready!"

"Wounds from Derek suck," winced Isaac as Stiles and Derek helped him on his feet. "Am I still bleeding?" he asked, taking off his shirt so it wouldn't touch the open wound.

"Yeah," said Stiles, "Derek, please set him down in the living room. I'll get a something to clean him up with,"

He took off his jacket and threw it onto a nearby chair before tending to Isaac. Stiles had no idea why Derek had the pack training in the middle of December when it was freezing. Not that the wolves ever felt cold. He just wanted Derek to cut them some slack a bit. It was nearing Christmas.

Erica draped some towels on the sofa before Derek set Isaac down so he wouldn't bleed everywhere. Jackson and Danny were on one side of the room, and Scott arrived about a moment later with Stiles, ready with the first aid and a bowl of warm water and a small towel. Jackson lit up the fireplace to warm Stiles up.

"It's okay, it's not bleeding anymore," said Stiles, sitting down beside Isaac, and started cleaning him up first with the towel that was wet with warm water. "Just don't move much first,"

Gently and carefully, Stiles tended to Isaac's wound, wiping up the blood with the towel and warm water, then disinfecting the cuts. Stiles frowned at Isaac's discomfort. He was used to cleaning everyone up when they were all bloodied up like this, but that didn't mean it was easy seeing them scrunch up in pain like that.

"OW!" Isaac flinched when the stinging disinfectant hit the wound. "Why can't we have the kiddie ones that don't hurt?" he frowned.

"Scott got these from Dr Deaton," said Stiles, threw the cotton into a plastic bag Scott got for him so all the bloodied things could be in one place and not all over the trash can. "Let's ask him about the non-stinging ones, okay?" he prepared the gauze then taped it up to finish. "There,"

"Thank you," Isaac smiled weakly at him.

Stiles smiled back as he put the first aid kit away. "You're welcome," he helped Isaac up. "Go up and get a fresh shirt on. I'm going to clean the towels before the blood dries. Scott, please put the first aid kit back where you found it."

"I'll do it," Erica took the kit from him, Isaac went upstairs and Danny put away the bowl of blood stained water.

"Okay?" said Stiles as he watched them move around the living room. He looked at Derek. Derek shrugged. "Am I missing something?" he asked.

"You're the one who said you wanted them behaved," Derek watched him gather the bloodied towels.

"Sometimes it gets suspicious, you know?" said Stiles, folding up the towels so they wouldn't be difficult to carry to the wash room. "I mean I know they mean well—"

Stiles was shut up with Derek's lips on his. "I know they're just being good pups. I'm sorry about Isaac. I guess I've been too rough with training lately. I just don't want us to be underprepared,"

The human gave the Alpha a gentle smile. "You're just looking out for us, and mistakes are made for us to learn from them," Stiles put his free hand on Derek's cheek, feeling the stubble under his skin. "Besides, you've got your very own Disney Princess. Of course we'll win," he laughed.

Derek rolled his eyes.

"Come on!" Stiles withdrew his hand from Derek and held the towels with both hands. "I'd totally be a kick ass Disney Princess! Though I'm not sure if I can save China just yet—"

"Stiles, just wash the towels, okay?"

"I _will_ be able to save China one day, though!"

"Stiles,"

"I know, I know, wash the towels," Stiles pouted.

Derek's eye twitched. He sighed and gave in. "Fine, you'd make a kick ass Disney Princess,"

"I know, right!" Stiles stole a quick kiss from his Alpha, and left the living room to do some laundry.

* * *

Stiles went upstairs to gather all of clothes from the hampers, and put it together with the towels in a laundry basket. It wasn't much, just a few shirts, a pair of pants, and some socks. Since he was going to wash the towels, he might as well just do the laundry. Most of it were Derek's anyway.

He decided to visit Isaac up in his room after emptying the hamper of Derek's clothes in the nearest bathroom while holding the basket balanced on his hip. "Isaac?" he knocked on the door. "You okay? Does it still hurt?"

Isaac opened the door. He looked better with all the sweat wiped away and with a fresh shirt on. "Hey," Isaac smiled. "I'm good. It still hurts, but I'm good. It's gonna be healed completely in a couple more hours,"

"Oh, good," Stiles smiled back and gave a light nod. "I'm going to do a bit of laundry for a bit. Won't take long since it isn't much. I'll make some snacks for you guys after I'm done, okay?"

"Okay!" Isaac nodded excitedly, like he lives for nothing but Stiles' cooking.

Stiles sighed. "Uh, Isaac? You know Derek didn't mean to hurt you, right?"

"I know," said Isaac. "I think it goes unsaid. He just wants us to be safe, right? Like you always say,"

"Yeah, Derek just wants us to be safe," Stiles nodded. "Why don't you go sit on the porch and watch the others train while I do this? Anything you want me to make?"

"Panini!" Isaac answered immediately.

Stiles chuckled. "Alright. Banana and Nutella Panini it is," he moved to leave, but Isaac caught him and hugged him, causing him to let go of the basket, and it hit the wooden floor with a loud thud.

Isaac bent down a little, his arms under Stiles', pulling his Alpha's mate closer, and buried his nose his Stiles' neck.

Stiles froze for a moment, then gave the hug back. He rubbed circles on the beta's back. "Hey, it's okay," Stiles ran one of his hands through Isaac's curls. "Poor puppy," he whispered, feeling Isaac's uneven breaths on his neck. "How about I make some caramel bars? For dessert later?" these long impromptu hugs from Isaac weren't new. He was just caught way off guard this time. "Then I'll make you your favourite pasta? And some very nice garlic bread and grilled chicken breasts? How's that sound?"

"Angel hair Bolognese?" Isaac quietly said into Stiles' neck.

"Mhmm…and you can help me, too." Stiles smiled, and pressed a kiss to Isaac's temple. "C'mon, you can bring the others some Gatorade and watch them train. Remember, Derek likes the blue one. Don't give it to Scott," he chuckled, then Isaac let go.

Stiles picked up the basket and watched Isaac bound down the stairs into the living room. He followed, and halfway down the stairs he heard clinks of bottles, probably the bottles in the shelves of the fridge door, bumping into each other as Isaac yanked the fridge open.

"No beer!" Stiles called as he reached the foot of the stairs.

"Gotcha!" Isaac gathered the Gatorade bottles, and brought them outside. "Stiles says Gatorade break!" he handed Derek the blue one before Scott could get it.

"I wanted the blue one," Scott frowned, about to take the yellow one instead.

"Stiles said Derek liked the blue one, and there was only one blue Gatorade left so…" When everybody had gotten one (Danny and Erica got the pink ones, Jackson got the orange one, Boyd got the red one, and Isaac and Scott got yellow ones), Isaac sat down on the porch, waiting for them to finish their drinks.

"How's your cut?" Derek asked after only a few gulps that rendered the 500ml bottle empty.

"Still open," answered Isaac, looking up at his alpha.

Derek nodded and set the bottle down on the porch. "Scott."

"Yeah?" the beta wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"You're the fastest. Run. I'm giving you a five minute head start," said Derek, watching them all set their bottles down on the porch beside Isaac. "First one to catch him gets to go the supermarket with Stiles after he's done with laundry. We're done as soon as you catch him,"

"YES!" Erica and Jackson chorused, also doing a high five.

Danny shook his eyes in amusement, Boyd had no reaction as always, and Scott looked like a kicked puppy. "Why am I always the bait?" he frowned. Derek glared at him. "Okay, fine, I'll run!" Scott stepped back with his hands up to his chest in defence.

"I get to go too, right?" Isaac asked before Derek sent Scott off.

Scott took off, and Derek shook his head lightly. Isaac frowned. "You need to keep still and let your wound heal." His 'I'm your Alpha listen to me' slash 'You live under my roof so you follow my rules' tone made Isaac frown more. Also the part where 'I'm your legal guardian' screamed 'Listen to me.'

"Stiles said I could help," Isaac mumbled under his breath.

Derek sighed. Why the hell did his betas have to be forever mentally stuck at sixteen? He took it back, he clearly did not make a good choice with his betas.

* * *

Jackson won, tackling Scott to the ground, covering them with dirt and dried leaves about half an hour after Scott's head start. Scott had run around in circles, also running up several trees and as far as he could go, and his fellow betas didn't know which track to follow. Jackson was the one who found and followed the right track.

When they got back, Stiles had already dried the clothes and hung them in a spare room, and there was a mountain of banana Nutella Panini on the breakfast counter, juice boxes (because Isaac and Scott loved juice boxes) and a note. _Knock yourselves out ;)_ it said. And they did. Of course, only after Derek took one and had the first bite.

Everybody had food in their mouths when Stiles went down the stairs with the keys to the Jeep jingling in his hands. "Hey," he said by the threshold of the kitchen, already dressed. He was in his favourite coat. It was a candy apple red hooded wool coat. It was a present from Derek and he loved it. "I'll head out to the supermarket a bit to get some stuff for dinner. I won't be gone long,"

"Jackson will go with you," said Derek, crushing the juice box and threw it in the trash bin.

"What? Why?" Stiles asked, watching Derek get a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Jackson," said Derek, snapping the bottle open. "Go get washed and get dressed. You drive,"

Jackson finished the last of his Panini and his juice before rushing into his room to freshen and dress up.

"Okay?" Stiles watched Jackson disappear up the stairs and looked at the betas seated on the stools at the counter, then at Derek. "It's just the supermarket, Derek,"

"And I told you, you need someone with you all the time," said Derek, walking up to him. "Just as a precaution," he put his hand on the small of Stiles' back and led him back up the stairs, to their room. "You're not going out like that. It's freezing,"

Yes, they were on their Christmas Holiday break from school. A Christmas break with still a lot of homework to do. Stiles had some stuff to work on food allergies (he was taking HRM slash culinary arts type of degree from the local college). He didn't know what the others had to do over the break, but he was sure they were loaded too.

"Yeah, says the one who wears nothing but pants and a Henley outside," Stiles frowned. "Why don't you guys have some rest? Maybe clear your heads and your noses?"

He and Derek entered the master bedroom. Derek closed the door, and move over to his drawers to take something from under the pile of underwear. "Thought you might like and need a pair," he handed it to Stiles.

They were gloves. Badass looking gloves. They were black, and for cold weather. Stiles' smile went from ear to ear and he hugged Derek by his torso and kissed his cheek. "You're going to spoil me rotten with these gifts!" he said as he pulled away. He put on the gloves. It went perfectly with the coat. It made him look all fancy.

"I have every right to spoil you," said Derek, pressing his lips to Stiles' temple. "I love you,"

"You should!" chuckled Stiles. "I do your laundry, so you better love me,"

Derek shook his head with a small smile.

"Well, I better go," said Stiles, "Gotta be home in time to make dinner! Still have to pass by the station. Love you!" Stiles gave Derek a quick kiss on the lips before going back down the stairs, where Jackson was waiting at the foot, also in one of his fancier coats and gloves.

Stiles threw Jackson the keys to the Jeep. Jackson caught it, and moved to leave the house with Stiles. Before they could get in the Jeep, Derek went out after them. "Jackson!" he said, going down the porch steps.

"Yeah?" the beta looked up, ready to get in Stiles' car.

"Take the Explorer," Derek threw him the keys to the SUV, and went back inside the house.

Stiles frowned. "Don't belittle my Jeep!" he yelled after Derek.

Jackson chuckled and gave Stiles back his keys. "I think he just wants us to take new car for a spin, or that the Ford's got better heating, or he just doesn't want us to break down halfway there-"

"Okay! Fine! I got it thank you very much, Jackson," he cut Jackson off and pocketed his keys. "Now drive before the Big Bad Alpha says anything more about my car,"

Stiles got into the front seat, and Jackson drove out the Hale property.

* * *

"Hello, Stiles," said an old woman—probably in her mid-sixties—as Stiles hopped out of the SUV in the parking lot.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Campbell," Stiles smiled. Mrs Campbell lived with his husband a few houses away from him and his dad, and he remembered being babysat by her a few times. She was really nice, and she liked how she read him bedtime stories.

"You're looking fancy today," she said, coming up to him to give him a quick kiss on his cheek. "My, that's a nice coat and what a huge car. Is that yours? I don't think I've ever seen out without your adorable Jeep,"

Jackson came up behind him, pocketing the car's keys. "Thank you. And no, this isn't mine. I wish it were. This is Mr Hale's car. Jackson and I are doing some errands for him," smiled Stiles. Wow, calling Derek 'Mr Hale' sounded like he was some big shot businessman and Stiles was the lowly coffee maker-copy boy. "By the way, Jackson, this is Mrs Campbell. She lives a few houses away from me. Mrs Campbell, this is Jackson Whittemore. He's one of my high school classmates,"

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Jackson offered his hand and shook the old lady's hand gently but firmly.

"What handsome young men," she said, smiling at them. "Well, you two best be off, and I must too. Can't let Mr Campbell wait too long. Take care of yourself, Stiles,"

Stiles opened the door to the backseat of her car to deposit the only bag she had from the supermarket, and opened the driver's seat door for her so she could get it. Mrs Campbell thanked him. "No problem, Mrs Campbell. Drive safe!" he waved as she drove off.

"Mr Hale, huh?" Jackson teased as they walked towards the establishment.

"Shut up. I don't wanna hear it," said Stiles, sounding playfully dismissive. "I can't just tell an old woman that it's my boyfriend's car can I? She still probably sees me as that eight year old she used to look after when my mom died,"

"Still," said Jackson. "Mr Hale. Has a nice ring to it. 'Jackson and I are doing errands for him.' Wow, doesn't it sound like a 50s housew—"

"Don't you dare say it!" Stiles cut him off, taking longer strides to be able to get to the building. "There will be no caramel bars tonight if you say it!" Yeah, Stiles wasn't going to deny the domesticity of it all but, hell no, he was not a 50s housewife (uh, yeah he was).

"—wife?"

Stiles stopped a few feet from the store's automated door and narrowed his eyes at Jackson. More like squinted. "No dessert for you," he poked Jackson's chest with his forefinger. "Absolutely no dessert,"

Jackson gave a defeated sigh. "Fine," and followed Stiles inside.

Stiles went straight for the aisles, and starting taking the things he needed. Jackson quickly took a cart and ran after him before Stiles dropped everything he was holding. Jackson sort of knew why everybody liked accompanying Stiles in his grocery shopping. Most of the time Stiles was quiet, which was really a fucking miracle. He studied the way Stiles take and put back items from the shelves, debating with himself whether to take it or not, or if they needed it, or which of the two brands he'd get more out of according to volume or weight and the price.

No one ever tried shopping without Stiles. Derek tried once, when Stiles had been too busy with some end of the term final projects and nobody had the time to go out except him. He got all the wrong brands and the stuff that not everybody liked so they had to suffer a week for Derek's…lack of household knowledge. Like how he took the regular cornflakes instead of the frosted ones. Everybody had to eat regular cornflakes. Isaac hated regular cornflakes. Because Derek was boring and didn't like Froot Loops.

The cart was half full and they were at the meat section when Jackson spoke. "Hey, Stiles?"

"Yeah?" answered Stiles, about to take the bag of ground beef from the butcher behind the counter.

"Here, lemme get that," Jackson took the bag from the butcher, and put it in the cart.

Stiles looked at him suspiciously. "Is there anything I should know?"

"Well, not really," Jackson pushed the cart towards the butcher who was about to hand Stiles the bag of chopped chicken parts. He took it as well and put it in the cart.

"Did you break something?" Stiles was still eyeing him. "The law? The car?! I can save your ass with my dad but not with Derek!"

"What? No!" Jackson frowned. He sighed. "It's Lydia, okay?"

Stiles' expression softened. "I'd give you a hug right now, but I don't think you like hugs all that much, and because it'd look _so_ weird," he made a motion with his hand to tell Jackson to follow him to the veggies section. Stiles, looked over the vegetables, deciding which ones to get as he picked out some nice looking white onions. "Heard it was the last one,"

"Yeah," Jackson nodded, leaning on the cart's handle.

Stiles had the onions weighed and put the bag in the cart. He waited for Jackson to speak. He didn't want to get ahead and assume that it was Lydia he wanted to talk about. So while Jackson stood there guarding their cart, he picked out the usual stuff he bought for the Hale House pantry.

"How did you do it?" Jackson said finally. Stiles had already taken everything he needed from the crates.

"I beg your pardon?" said Stiles, dropping a few bottles of seasoning from one of the shelves.

Jackson wasn't looking at him. He couldn't. "Get over Lydia, how did you do it?" because he couldn't believe that he was asking Stiles of all people. Stiles, who had only had one lover in his entire existence and was probably never going to get another one.

"Jackson," Stiles started softly, trying to ignore that need for him to wrap his arms around his former captain and comfort his mate's beta. "It takes time. I know it's already been a month, but it takes longer than that,"

The blonde nodded.

"It takes time and people," continued Stiles. "If you keep to yourself like you always do, you'll never be able to get used to other people being around you. Derek constantly slipping into my room in the middle of the night trying to get me to research things and read tons of history got my mind off her. Helping rebuild the house was a distraction, so was thinking of the pack's health because seriously, I refuse to let you guys have take-out every day."

Stiles paused. It must be hard for Jackson to come to him for this.

"Danny misses you. You should go spend time with him. Spending time with Derek and Scott helped me," Jackson raised a brow at him. "Fine, Scott was busy eating Allison's face. Mostly it was Derek and you guys. Taking care of you guys helped. Most of the time I'm worried about what I'll feed you and my dad. Worried about the house falling on us whenever we're there, whatever the weather may be. S'one of the reasons why I kept annoying Derek to rebuild it. Worried that some rogue hunter might just come out and shoot you in open daylight and I don't have wolf's bane and lighter in my pocket,"

Jackson looked incredulously at him. "You carry wolf's bane with you all the time?"

"Uh, yeah." Said Stiles, there was an obvious 'duh' in his tone.

"I don't smell anything. Why can't I smell it? Or feel it?"

"It's dried, and I keep it with other herbs to hide the scent and effects," he answered. "I asked Dr Deaton. He taught me and gave me some reading assignments,"

"And Derek knows you carry wolf's bane around?"

Stiles nodded. "I told him I need the sense and feel of security. That I can do something if…if one of you got shot. If he got shot. Because I don't want to go through one of you getting shot again. I don't want any of you to go through what Derek went through," He swallowed, trying not to crack as he remembered the day Kate shot Derek. "I don't want any of you feeling helpless and scared out of your mind like I did when I literally watched Derek slowly die on the passenger seat of my Jeep. I don't want to cut anybody's arm or leg off when we're not anywhere near even a single wolf's bane flower. And even if I don't have the right species, at least it'll slow down the poison,"

Jackson slowly nodded, getting at where Stiles wanted him to be. After a few moments, when he got his answer and more, he spoke. "Thank you,"

"You're welcome," Stiles smiled and then lowered his voice. "And just between you and me," he leaned over closer to Jackson to whisper, "You are so totally Danny's type," he chuckled, leaned back again.

"Pfft. I've known that one for years," said Jackson arrogantly.

"Great! You know what to do, then! Now, let's go get you puppies a pool's worth of juice boxes and milk!"

* * *

"I feel like I'm feeding the Brady Bunch twice over," said Stiles as Jackson helped up put gallons of milk and chocolate milk into another cart. Derek even had to buy one of those industrial sized freezers to fit all of the milk and juice in. They had to put it in the basement, together with the other industrial sized freezer containing the deer meat. The wolves went out hunting every few full moons.

Scott and Isaac always fought over the chocolate milk, and he made sweet, warm milk on request on some nights (hell, even Derek asked for a mug once or twice), so it was better to stock up on the milk enough for a week than get a gallon and come back to the supermarket the next day.

"I heard you and Derek talking last night," said Jackson, attempting to break the silence as he helped Stiles with the gallons.

"Overheard or were you eavesdropping?" asked Stiles without any hint of malice. He and Derek hadn't done anything to embarrass their betas' ears.

"I was in my room," Jackson lowered his head, then took the cart with the milk and juices since it was heavier than the other one.

Stiles nodded. There was nothing wrong with that, besides, everybody in the house except him had superior hearing. He'd rather not Jackson listen in to his and Derek's conversations, not that what he and Derek discussed was going to be kept from them anyways. "And what did you hear?" Stiles pushed the cart into another aisle.

"Just that Derek bought the chain of garages he works at in town?" Jackson followed him.

"Oh, yeah. What about it?"

"Why?" Jackson asked.

"Work is just some kind of past time for him. For him to do something while the rest of us are at school," Stiles searched the shelves of things he thought the Hale House might need. "And contrary to popular opinion, Derek actually finished school. He has a degree in management," he grabbed a pack of crackers he thought might be nice with coffee.

Jackson's eyes widened. "He does?"

"Yep!" said Stiles, "You're going to have to ask nicely if you want to see his graduation picture and his diploma," he grinned at the beta.

"He has a graduation picture?!"

Stiles was seriously loving the look on Jackson's face. "Yeah," he was still smiling. "I won't tell you where it is, though," it was right next to his own high school graduation picture, hanging on the wall of his father's office at the station. They were only copies, though. The real ones were at the Hale house, in Derek's study. No one was allowed in Derek's room and study except for Stiles. It was one of the perks of being the Alpha's mate.

"Hey, that's not fair," frowned Jackson.

"It's completely Derek's choice if he wants you to see his graduation picture or not," said Stiles. "Now, move your furry butt, Jackie, let's pay for this," he pushed the cart towards the end of the aisle to the cashiers.

Jackson groaned. "_Don't_ call me that,"

"I'll call you whatever I want," Stiles grinned at him. "Besides, I think it's a cute nickname. I won't call you Jackie in front of the others. That's just for me."

"Ugh, fine," he followed Stiles to the cashier.

* * *

"Stiles!"

Stiles turned around and saw one of his father's officers walking towards him. "Good afternoon, officer," Stiles smiled at the officer.

"Heading home?" she asked, eyeing the car. She let out a whistle. "That looks new. Yours?"

"Oh, no," Stiles shook his head. "It's Derek's. We took it for a spin,"

She grinned at him. "Mr Hale's a lucky man, isn't he? Pretty little thing like you doing his groceries," she winked.

"Oh God." Stiles hid behind Jackson, trying to keep his reddening face from his father's deputy. She had always been a big fan of Derek ever since he came back.

Jackson smirked at Stiles. "Well, Officer. It was nice running into you. I have to get this 'pretty little thing' back to Mr Hale now,"

"I hate you," Stiles murmured into Jackson's back.

The deputy chuckled. "You make sure that Mr Hale takes care of Stiles, you hear me, Mr Whittemore?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jackson nodded and watched the officer make her way back to her cruiser.

"I hate you, Jackie," Stiles frowned, going back to putting the bags in the car. "You're still not going to get any dessert tonight,"

* * *

It was still mostly Jackson who helped him put away the groceries when they arrived since everybody else was having too much fun having their nap in their own rooms (according to Jackson). Stiles didn't waste time though, because as soon as Jackson put the last of the canned goods in the pantry, he sent him away to have a nap himself so he could start dinner in peace.

Isaac wasn't anywhere around, and he'd probably be sad that Stiles started cooking without him, but if Stiles didn't start cooking already, dinner wouldn't be on the table on time. And he promised his dad he'd be sleeping at home tonight.

He pulled on his mother's apron and got started. He did everything according to the little, black leather bound book Derek gave him. And if the recipe wasn't there, he'd do it the way his mother did it. He did it exactly the way his and Derek's mother did it.

Stiles pulled out his phone and decided to play some bossanova in the background as he moved around in the kitchen. It wasn't too loud since he was alone and he could hear it just fine even if it was set only on the third of ten levels. He also sang along quietly, since the songs were only bossa variations of his favourite oldies.

The smell of sautéing ground beef filled the kitchen, and Stiles hoped to God that the fan sucked in all of that since he didn't want to wake up the pack. They deserved that nap especially after all that running. While the beef was cooking he put out a large pot and started to heat the water for the pasta.

"Don't leave your coat around like that," Derek took Stiles coat from one of the stools, and hung it in the closet.

"Sorry," said Stiles, going back to seasoning the beef that had already turned a nice brown in the large saucepot. "I was too busy thinking I wouldn't finish dinner in time,"

"You always finish dinner on time," Derek snaked his arms around Stiles' waist and hugged him from behind. He pressed his lips onto Stiles' neck and breathed in his scent. "How was the trip?"

"Educational, insightful, but most of all, humiliating," Stiles stirred the meat some more and lowered the heat.

"And why is that?" Derek asked, following Stiles' movements as he started cooking the pasta.

Stiles put some salt in the boiling water after he put the pasta in. "Well, a) Jackson rubbed it in my face that I'm a housewife when I referred to you as 'Mr Hale' to an old lady to who used to babysit me when I was young, and who by the way, still sees me as that eight year old whose mother just died. I can't actually tell her I'm practically married to my boyfriend at twenty, right?"

"Mmm," Derek said against his neck in response.

"And b) one of Dad's officers came up to us and said 'Mr Hale is a lucky man with a _pretty little thing_ like you doing his groceries.'" Stiles almost spat out the words.

"You _are_ a pretty little thing and I _am_ a lucky man to have you doing my groceries," Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple.

"You're not getting any dessert either,"

"Dessert that was bought with my credit card."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't,"

After the pasta had been drained, the sauce done, the bread buttered, seasoned with garlic and warming in the toaster, and the caramel bars popped in the oven, Stiles left Derek to grill the cuts of seasoned chicken breast in the back. Isaac was the only one still sleeping, and the others were watching some cartoons (Scott insisted on Batman Beyond and boy, was Stiles proud) from his hard drive on the huge ass flat screen in the living room (which was why he downloaded everything in Blu-ray, even the cartoons).

Stiles quietly entered Isaac's room, and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed so he wouldn't nudge awake. Isaac was hugging one of his pillows, and another one was in between his legs. He ran a hand through Isaac's curls, making Isaac shift slightly and open his eyes.

"Stiles?"

"Hey," Stiles smiled at him. "Dinner's ready. I didn't want to wake you up and let you help like I promised. I can give you extra caramel bars though,"

Isaac smiled. "Can I get whipped cream with it?"

"Just don't give Jackson any," Stiles winked at him. Isaac chuckled. "How's your wound? Does it still hurt?" he withdrew his hand from Isaac's hair. "Let me see. After dinner, you will have a warm shower and we'll change them, okay?"

Isaac pushed his pillows aside and lifted his shirt. There were still spots of blood on the bandages, but nothing that should alarm them. "It still hurts. I don't know what stage of human healing I can compare it to, but I guess it's about a third or a fourth of the way there?"

Stiles didn't try to touch it and just pulled Isaac's shirt down. "Go freshen up. Dinner will be ready as soon as Derek's done grilling. I'll see you downstairs," he gave Isaac another smile before leaving him to get cleaned up.

Isaac nodded and made his way to the bathroom down the hall. He felt loved when Stiles took care of him. Not that he didn't feel loved with his father; he wasn't always like that. His wolf purred when Stiles paid attention and tended to him. Like it—he—both of them, like both of them wanted to curl up next to him to sleep. He attributed it to the Stiles being his Alpha's mate.

Tonight, like every other day and night Stiles gave him attention, he was going to soak it all up like a toddler being fed his dinner bottle. So as soon as he was done cleaning up in the bathroom, he bounded down the stairs and joined everybody else in the dining room. Stiles wasn't there yet; he was in the kitchen putting some dressing on the quick Caesar salad, then took the caramel bars out of the oven to cool. Derek was at the table setting down the bowl of pasta and sauce, and a plate of garlic bread.

Isaac sat down at the table beside the blank seat at the right of Derek's seat, and Stiles entered the dining room holding a large bowl of greens and the plate of the grilled chicken. "Derek, could you please get the pepper? For the salad?"

"I'll get it," Jackson stood up and went to the kitchen. He was the only one who wanted pepper in his salad, so there was no way he was going to let Stiles make his Alpha get stuff for him.

When Jackson came back, everybody was seated around the ten seat long table. Derek was at the capital and Stiles at his right. Scott was at Derek's left and Jackson sat down beside him. Isaac was beside Stiles and beside him was Boyd, who was sitting across Danny. Beside Boyd was Erica.

The betas waited for the Alpha pair to serve themselves first. They didn't actually have to do it, and it was really more of tradition, but the wolf inside them didn't want to show disrespect. The seating arrangement didn't mean anything either, except maybe for Stiles' place at Derek's right.

The betas still hadn't gotten used to Derek eating vegetables, and that he was a big fan of salads, even after years of living together and under his command. They had always thought that he was more of a carnivore who liked well done steaks (he actually liked them medium rare).

After Derek and Stiles put their share of salad on their plates and set the salad bowl down, was the time everybody else reached for the pasta, bread and the chicken. Scott attacked the chicken and put a mountain on his plate. Stiles just chuckled.

"I'll sleep at Dad's tonight," Stiles said as he stabbed a leaf with his fork. "I'll also bring over some food. He might try to sneak in some kind of hellish burger. No way am I gonna let that happen,"

Dinner was noisy, quite the opposite of how it started. It was mostly about the training, and who beat who, and Jackson winning on the 'Chase Scott' game. Stiles laughed, especially when Jackson was rubbing it in Scott's face that he'd yet again caught him. There was no wolfing out, since Stiles had already implemented the rule that there was no wolfing out at the table. Derek sat on the capital, enjoying the noise at the table, just smiling to himself as his pack bonded over the events of the day.

Stiles was thankful that Jackson decided to shut his mouth about Mrs Campbell and his father's officer. Because had no idea what he'd do to the beta if he opened his mouth. It was a good thing Derek was too busy scenting him and trying to get him hard in the kitchen to listen to him rant about other people calling him his 'wife.'

Isaac was stuffing his face with the promised whipped cream topped caramel bars when Stiles stood up and gathered his and Derek's plates. "When you're done, bring your plates to the sink. I'll just pack some food for my dad,"

Derek finished his glass of water, and retreated to the living room to turn on some slow music. Because when everybody thought Derek was into classic rock and similar genres, he was actually more into oldies. And tonight he chose Frank Sinatra.

_Someday, when I'm awfully low _

As soon as the music started, the betas scrambled out of the dining room into the kitchen to leave their dishes there (with their dessert jammed into their mouths), and rushed up to the media room upstairs. Derek smirked, and joined Stiles in the kitchen.

_When the world is cold_

Stile looked at Derek in confusion. "What just happened?" he asked, the silent hum of the dishwasher filling the room. "They came in here and even turned on the dishwasher themselves,"

_I will feel a glow just thinking of you_

Derek stood at the threshold, and raised the stereo volume with the remote in his hand. He set the remote down on a near table when the volume was high enough for Stiles to hear without the music being too loud.

_And the way you look tonight_

"Oh,"

_Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm_

Derek approached him, giving a small smile to Stiles in return for his own fond smile and took Stiles' left hand with his right, and put his own left hand on Stiles' back under his arm. "It's not every day they're taking initiative like that." He pulled Stiles closer.

_And your cheeks so soft_

Stiles laughed softly, putting his right hand on Derek's left shoulder, and followed the sway of Derek's body as he slowly moved to the music.

_There is nothing for me but to love you_

"What's got you in the romantic mood tonight?" Stiles leaned in closer until their noses touched.

_And the way you look tonight_

"Just that we've all been too busy with school and work that we barely have any time for each other," answered Derek, burying his nose in Stiles' hair.

_With each word your tenderness grows_

"Hey, I'll always make time for you. May it be a supernatural disaster, you needing me to do your ironing," Stiles ran a finger down from Derek's shoulder down to his chest. "Or maybe some…fun,"

_Tearing my fears apart_

Derek knew Stiles would always be there, he didn't worry about that. The thing that he worried about a hundred percent of the time was Stiles getting hurt. Even though he and the pack had always gotten Stiles out of trouble unscathed, he didn't want the time that Stiles would come out of trouble with several broken bones.

_And that laugh…wrinkles your nose_

Stiles drew circles on Derek's chest. "We could have some fun right now," Derek pulled in him in closer and planted kisses on Stiles' neck and shoulder. "But you mentioned something about not despoiling your kitchen,"

Stiles laughed a hearty, fond laugh.

_Touches my foolish heart_

Stiles brought his hand up to Derek's cheek. "God, I love you," he pressed his forehead to Derek's.

_Lovely ... Never, never change_

"I love you more," Derek whispered back, and leaned in for a kiss.

_Keep that breathless charm_

The kiss was deep and short, and Stiles kept their foreheads together when they pulled away. "Next time you want to woo me, you better find a more romantic space than your kitchen, Derek. So that I'll actually swoon. Not that I'm not swooning right now,"

_Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you_

"Do I even still need to woo you to make you swoon?"

_Just the way you look tonight_

"Arrogant ass," Stiles snorted, and placed his head on Derek's shoulder. They finished the rest of the song just moving, swaying slowly to the music. "But I like your ass. It's too sexy not to like it,"

Then Stiles realized that he _was_ the wife (not that it was a big problem) because Derek just pulled a husband move on him. It was on old movies all the time. The mom cleaning up after dinner, and the kids upstairs playing, and dad comes in the kitchen and pulling mom to a slow dance to a romantic song from the radio. AND DEREK EVEN PICKED **FRANK SINATRA**.

"I think I'm going to get diabetes," Stiles groaned, but he didn't move from his spot on Derek's shoulder.

"The good kind or the bad kind?"

"The kind that's going to lead to sex!" Stiles sounded a little frustrated. "And we can't have any because I have to go to Dad's," he pulled away from Derek, crossed his arms and pouted at him.

"We can make up for it some other time," Derek smiled, and the song ended, replaced by, _I've got you under my skin._

Stiles frowned at him.

_I've got you deep in the heart of me_

"You're trying to seduce me with that wretched Frank Sinatra CD!" Stiles pouted even more.

"Do you think I need the CD to seduce you?" Derek crossed his arms and smirked at him.

The Henley sleeves stretched out from the movement. "Ugh. I hate you. You're using yourself against me,"

"No you don't," Derek watched him take a few Tupperware from the cupboard and started putting food in it. And like always, Derek stuck himself to Stiles' back with his arms wrapped around his waist as he worked around the kitchen.

"Yeah, and sometimes I wish I could so that I can actually stay angry for more than a minute," Stiles popped the Tupperware closed. "I'll just go change Isaac's bandages," he set the Tupperware aside and went to the bathroom down the hall to get the bandages.

Isaac had already finished his bath when Stiles knocked and came in his room. "Ready?" Stiles asked, letting Isaac pull on some boxers first before making him lie down on the bed.

Isaac nodded. "You're not going to stay?" he asked as Stiles applied some disinfectant on the half healed wound again. He winced.

"Sorry," Stiles said guiltily, then proceeding to be gentler with the application. "No, I'm not. I told my dad I'd just help you guys settle down here then I'll go back home. We'll spend Christmas here, though. With Mrs McCall and Allison,"

"And Lydia?"

"And Lydia," Stiles nodded. "She and Jackson are grown-ups now so they're going to behave like grown-ups and suck it up like grown-ups," Isaac laughed. His laugh seemed to be contagious because Stiles started laughing with him. "Stop that or I might just accidentally poke at your intestines or something,"

Isaac calmed down, smiling up at Stiles. "Sorry,"

"Mmm," Stiles replied fondly, putting some antibiotic ointment to the wound so that the bandages wouldn't stick to it. "Has Derek said sorry? About the wound?" he asked, twisting the cap back on the ointment tube.

Isaac nodded.

"And how did that go?" Stiles proceeded to start bandaging the wound.

"We had a really nice nap,"

Stiles paused and looked at Isaac who was grinning at him. He could imagine Isaac pressed up against Derek's side like the huge puppy that he was, needing to feel safe and secure under the protection of his Alpha. "Well that was awfully sweet of him. I'll keep quiet so I won't offend His Alphaness," he chuckled as he finished up. "There," he set the first aid kit aside and fetched a shirt for Isaac.

Isaac pulled it on, and when Stiles came back to retrieve the first aid kit from the bed, he threw himself onto Stiles into a crushing hug. Stiles, as always, gave him and hugged back. "Maybe Derek will let you sleep in his bed tonight?" he said, rubbing circles on Isaac's back.

It relieved Stiles that Isaac didn't ask anymore when he wanted to be held. Stiles had more than the healthy amount of hugs from his dad, and Isaac, well, even if he said Mr Lahey wasn't always like that, Stiles still thought that the child in Isaac just need some TLC. And Stiles was never gonna run out of TLC.

"You think so?" Isaac said into his shoulder.

"He took a nap with you didn't he? Of course he will," he pressed a kiss on the top of Isaac's head. Isaac seemed to like that a lot. The first time he did it a few years ago, Isaac didn't let go of him for hours.

"I love you, Stiles," Isaac whispered, burying himself in Stiles' StilesandDerek scent. It calmed him down.

"I love you, too, Isaac," Stiles whispered back, and they stayed like that for about another five minutes before Isaac let go and hid under his covers to try and rest early.

Stiles quietly slid out of Isaac's room and went back to the kitchen to pack his father's food.

"I'll drive you there," said Derek as he passed by the kitchen to get the keys from the key bowl in the living room.

"I'm capable of driving myself, Derek," Stiles grabbed a paper bag from the drawer he stored them in and wrapped the Tupperware with it.

"No," Derek reappeared at the kitchen threshold wearing his leather jacket and holding Stiles' red coat and his gloves. "Don't you think it's time for you to let your Jeep rest? She's at the shop every other week,"

"It's not like I can afford a new car," said Stiles, taking the coat and gloves from Derek. "Besides, as long as I can get her out in a few days, it's fine,"

"I'll get you another car," Derek said with finality.

"You just bought the Ford!" Stiles said incredulously, halfway through buttoning his coat. "And the garage!"

"And the money will be made back when I start managing the garage," Derek went over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "It's just a car, Stiles," he drained half the bottle and put it back.

"This is _thousands of dollars_ we're talking about, Derek," Stiles put on the gloves. "You don't just give away cars! Boyfriend or not!"

They really shouldn't be raising their voices like this. It stressed Isaac out the most when Derek and Stiles were arguing, and he had just gotten out of a cuddling session with Isaac.

"But you're not _just_ a boyfriend, Stiles," said Derek.

Stiles reddened. "I know that…" his voice lowered and he shifted his eyes to the floor for a moment before looking back at Derek. "It's just that…you should be keeping that money, Der," he said softly. "Setting it aside for a rainy day. For more important things-"

"Like your life?" Derek cut him off. "I'm trying to relieve you of your Jeep, Stiles. She's done her job, and she needs to rest! She will one day probably be the reason you'll spend months of physical therapy. Do you think I'd give a shit about spending a couple of thousand dollars if it means I know you're driving home _safely _every day? Because honestly, I'd rather be spending that money spoiling _you_ than spending it on your hospital bill,"

"Der," Stiles gave a resigned sigh.

"Can you please let me do this?" Derek said softly. He approached him, taking Stiles' hand to intertwine it with his. Stiles was looking at their hands. It was difficult for Derek. Working at the shop, thinking of nothing but the possibility of his phone ringing with an officer, or a paramedic or the hospital, or even the sheriff, telling him that Stiles had crashed because of something faulty and old in the parts of the Jeep.

Stiles didn't answer, and stayed quiet for a few moments. "You're supposed to be setting that side for your children's college fund or something," he leaned into Derek's chest.

"Think of it as an investment," said Derek, once again giving into the whims of his wolf, pressing Stiles closer to him. His mate was upset, and his wolf whined at that. "Something that will keep their other Dad safe so they can actually meet him. We can get you a newer Jeep if you want,"

"You mean it?" Stiles mumbled into Derek's neck.

"You can have the Ford if you want,"

Stiles froze, then looked up at Derek. "You mean it?" he repeated.

"Yes, _if_ you promise you'll let the Jeep rest,"

"She will. You can even use her as your garage mascot,"

"Stiles."

"I promise!"

"You'll never be able to get her back."

Stiles frowned.

"Stiles."

"Dereeeekkkk," Stiles whined. "Jeep is my baby,"

"And now the Ford is your baby. The Jeep is now going in the garage to sign up for the retirement she deserves after she's fixed up,"

The Jeep did deserve that. So Stiles gave in. He'd still visit her every day though. "Fine," he wiped the frown from his face and pouted instead.

Derek held up the keys to the Ford. "Are we good?"

Stiles' grin was wide. Derek swore he was PMS-ing with how fast he shifted from one emotion to another. "Really good,"

As soon as Derek handed him the keys, a squeal came out of Stiles mouth and hugged him tightly. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlov eyouIloveyou!" and then let him go, clutching the keys tightly in his hand. "Let's go!" Stiles dragged Derek out of the kitchen and outside, obviously rushing to get home so he could brag to his dad about his new car.

Derek just smiled. So did everybody else in the house.

* * *

His dad wasn't home though, so Stiles just parked the Ford in the driveway, set the food down on the kitchen table and kissed Derek good night. It was nearing nine in the evening, and his dad wouldn't probably arrive until after midnight, so he made his way upstairs and got ready for bed.

For some reason, he didn't want to wait up anymore and brag to his dad about the car. For some other reason he didn't know, he was tired as fuck, so he didn't bother opening up his laptop to check things that needed to be checked, or to jackoff and finger his hole furiously to the thought of having sex with Derek in the backseat of the Ford.

Besides, the bed was so inviting it was practically screaming his name.

He was on it seconds after stepping out of the bathroom, and fell asleep a few more seconds after that. Who knew grocery shopping could be so tiring? He was having a rather dreamless sleep, a very good dreamless sleep, until he woke up feeling like he was shoved into a furnace. He opened his eyes, and found himself under the covers, sandwiched between two werewolves.

Jackson and Isaac.

Both were pressed against either side of him. Isaac was on his right and Jackson was on his left. He was sweating buckets, and he didn't even remember pulling his blanket over him when he crashed on the bed.

He turned his head to get a glance of his digital clock on his desk. It showed him 12:06AM in red glowing characters. He heard his father's cruiser pull on the driveway, and Jackson and Isaac didn't even move an inch.

About a minute later, his dad slowly opened his door. It was just the usual check up on Stiles thing. "Hi, Dad." Stiles whispered.

The sheriff raised a brow, eyeing Stiles' friends. "Do I want to know?" he forgot about the Ford parked in the driveway next to the cruiser when he saw two boys lying next to his only son, holding him tightly as if they were never going to let him go.

"Miraculously, the reason for this isn't as disturbing as it supposed to be," Stiles answered. Jackson and Isaac whined and pulled him closer to them.

"Is it a wolf thing?" his dad asked.

"That and some personal problems that I'm not sure I'm allowed to share but I'll share anyway," Stiles was starting to pant. "If it's not too much of a bother, Dad, could you pull off the sheets? I'm literally burning here,"

The sheriff went over and pulled the sheets off him.

"Oh, thank God," the cool air hit him, "Jackson broke up with Lydia and we had a little heart to heart. Isaac got hurt during training today, and the wound is from Derek. I'm not sure if it's healed completely now. And the cuddling I think has something to do with the Alpha's mate thing. They take these little emotional cuddle sessions very seriously,"

"Okay," the sheriff nodded, thinking that it was best if he didn't press it any further because he didn't want to hear any more about his son, still a _kid _(though legal), dating a _man_. A werewolf. An _alpha werewolf_. "And the Ford in the driveway?"

Stiles smiled. "Derek gave it to me,"

His dad stared at him. "Derek Hale?"

"Yes, Derek Hale, dad,"

"Derek Hale gave you a car?"

"Yes. Derek gave me a car dad,"

"And he gave you a car _why_?"

Stiles sighed. "He said the Jeep's too old now, and that he doesn't want it to be the reason I die. He wanted to get me a new car, but I didn't want him to because I can still use the Jeep. I think he got a little angry about me being hard headed about it. I mean, a _car_, Dad. I can't afford one. I told him he can't just give away a car. And he said that it was just money and that he'd get it back. And that it's more important to him to know that I'm driving safe,"

The sheriff looked thoughtful. Even if he didn't approve of the age difference, at least Derek was a good boyfriend. Too good, even. Except for when he and Stiles have an argument and it takes them longer than three hours to kiss and make up, he'd take his shotgun out. Give Derek maybe a bullet or two but he hasn't had the opportunity yet.

"Well," his dad said after a moment. "He's right, the Jeep _is_ old. And where will the Jeep go?"

"Derek said he'd fix it and keep it in the garage," Stiles yawned.

"Alright then," Dad nodded, and thought it'd be best to let Stiles go back to sleep. "I'll go to bed. I put the food in the fridge by the way. Good night, kid,"

"G'night dad," Stiles slurred. "Love you," he yawned one more time and closed his eyes.

"Love you, too," the sheriff left and closed Stiles' door. He stood there for a few moments, then laughed quietly to himself.

Maybe he liked Derek little bit more now.

* * *

So I heard from the official TW Tumblr that Derek can slow dance! I love it because I wrote this before I found out that he could.

* * *

Please review! :) I like reviews. And faves. This is also posted as a stand alone, but I figured since this is a series and this is a sequel, I'd just post it here, too. Also because this particular story has more followers, so thought you'd like some more chapters! :) Please visit me on AO3! My username is littlechinesedoll :)


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